People Shouting in the Square
by ecol
Summary: In the greatest city in the world, Eliza tells her sisters that there are "people shouting in the square." Little did Eliza know that one of those people would change her life for good. First installment to the Helpless Trilogy.
1. Part 1: Eliza

_Eliza_

Angelica holds my hand, squeezing so hard that her knuckles are white. The carriage is rocking so hard and I am surprised that my elder sister has not gotten sick yet. She has a terribly weak stomach, despite the way she can take a chunk out of you with the things she says. Terribly intelligent, but at times judgmental.

Our younger sister, Peggy, sits across from us. Today she is wearing a yellow dress that is brighter than the heavens themselves. She looks lovely in yellow, especially with her caramel complexion and big brown eyes that glow when sunlight hits them.

Angelica's peach dress has a glowing quality to it as well. Against the dark blue velvet of the carriage it looks hideous, but on my sister the dress is one of the most beautiful things I've ever seen.

As we ride into the city, the steeples of churches are already coming into view. The carriage continues to wobble on the cobblestone as New York City opens up to us.

Peggy is amused already; her eyes have a shiny quality to them as she looks through the tiny window of the carriage. Not just steeples are in view now; post offices and breweries and coffee shops are now bustling with women in flowy cream gowns or men in cream vests and pantaloons.

The haze of August coats the buildings, trees, and even the sidewalks; if you couldn't see the haze, you would know by the way my darling Angelica's hair frizzes up when we venture outdoors. Speaking of her, her grip is not as hard upon my hand now as we park next to a sidewalk.

Our footman, Stephen, hops off the front of the carriage, stealthily opening the door for the three eldest Schuyler daughters. Peggy jumps out first, unable to control herself. She reaches up into the sky and squeals, disturbing a young lady attempting to buy flowers.

"Peggy, keep it down!" Angelica exclaims, stepping out of the carriage. "Mother would have you stuffed back into the carriage if she saw you behaving like that."

Angelica reconvenes with our sibling as I take deep breath in. Today I am going to see Manhattan; one of the greatest islands in the thirteen colonies. Today I am going to take over this city with my sisters; I'm going to have fun today.

I climb out of my seat, carefully placing my foot down on the first step. Stephen takes my hand and I smile brightly. Stephen and I have known each other our entire lives. I would consider us good friends. It's just that we have both been busy with our own issues, and haven't spent much time together.

"Thank you, Stephen," I realize that I am the only one of us who thanked him, and my cheeks flush. I think of the implications of my words, over and then over again-

"It is no burden at all, Miss Schuyler," Stephen tips his hat and climbs back into the driver's seat. "Enjoy the rest of your afternoon."

I push a piece of my hair behind my ear, giving him a casual grin. His words are a relief, and I don't overthink myself when I go to speak again. "You too…"

The sound of the carriage taking off on the cobblestone is relaxing. It reminds me of my childhood, and the travels my siblings and I would take with my father to and from my aunt's house in South Carolina. As the clatter fades away, I realize that I am with the best company in the greatest city in the world.

Angelica had not headed out until I had finished my conversation, which is a relief; usually she is so determined to get somewhere that she would leave me in the dust. As the eldest, she takes the lead, and I grasp my younger sibling's hand, our heels clicking against the sidewalk.

I can't help but to look around and take it all in. Everything feels larger than life here; Albany is a little different, after all. I couldn't help but notice that I am starting to feel smaller and smaller as we dive further into the city.

I look ahead of me, trying to ease my worries. I notice that the edge of Angelica's dress catches on the cobblestone, making a gentle scuff sound. I tune in to the fact that my dress is doing this as well. The sounds of the carriages, the clicking of heels, and the mild scuffs bring me back down to Earth again.

Peggy squeezes my hand as we approach the edge of mid and downtown. "Daddy said to be home by sundown…"

Angelica turns her head toward the sound of Peggy's voice. "Daddy doesn't need to know, Peggy!"

"But he said not to go downtown!"

It's my turn to comfort our outright worry wort. "Remember what I told you at the house. You're free to go, my dear."

As we continue walking, there is a flag in a window shop. The flag is yellow with a snake coiled up in the middle. Under the snake, the words read, "Don't Tread On Me".

Angelica acknowledges the flag and mutters to herself, "The revolution is happening in New York…"

I see my own reflection in the glass, almost ignoring the flag all together. As I am glancing, I make eye contact with the shop owner. He is dusting a book. He smiles at me, but doesn't say anything. My cheeks become flushed and I step away, a guilty feeling creeping up into my chest.

"Angelica, daddy wants to go to war." Peggy wrings her hands in each other, and doesn't say anything else. I continue to lead her down, not replying to my sibling.

As my sisters and I reach the top half of downtown Manhattan, a crowd begins to form. People are screeching, holding up papers and yelling things such as "tax" and "tea" and "bloodshed".

I can already feel my chest tightening up, however not with aching anxiety. I feel the need to rush over there, to see what the fuss is about, but the logical response is to stay with my sisters.

I phrase it as a question, unable to look away. "People shouting in the square?..."

I think of Angelica's copy of Common Sense on her bed. She used to tell me all about it, how it was simply "common sense" to separate from England; I knew that separating was the only way from the beginning. However, as I see this group of people form, the phrase "intelligent debate" does not even cross my mind.

I have always been the sister that thinks with her head, not with her heart. The practical one, the simple one. I could be picked out in a crowd each time with no trouble.

But today, I don't follow my head. I detach my hand from my sibling's as she and Angelica take a look at some shoes in another store window. I am almost all the way to the outer ring of crowd when I hear my name being called. It is a faint whisper compared to their shouts. I am wrapped up in the commotion of the people.

I finally understand what exactly the people are screaming about; and I notice that while the group of people are fluid, every single one is a man. Big men, small men, round men and skinny men. They are all either in patriot blue or neutral cream.

I am the only woman in a group of patriots. Lovely.

The group continues to call out until a man in a dark black robe steps onto a box. He holds out a letter pad, a quill in his hand. The crowd voices their displeasure with this specific man with boos and whoops and slurs. The man in black looks discouraged, but continues on with whatever he was saying before.

"Hear ye! Hear ye! My name is Samuel Seabury, and I present Free Thoughts on the proceedings of the Continental Congress!"

The words don't hit me until they _do_. The man before us is a Loyalist.

Oh dear God. They're going to tear him apart!


	2. Part 2: Alexander

_Alexander_

"Hear ye! Hear ye! My name is Samuel Seabury, and I present Free Thoughts on the proceedings of the Continental Congress!"

 _This is going to be good._

"Head not the rabble who scream revolution, they have not your interest at heart. Chaos and bloodshed are not a solution, don't let them lead you astray… This congress does not speak for me!" An eruption of discourse echoes through the thick August air. "They're playing a dangerous game! I pray the King shows you his mercy, gentlemen! For shame, for shame!" The words tumble out of this young man's mouth, but it all sounds like boiling blood to me.

"Oh my God, tear this man apart, Alexander," Herc whispers in my ear. I can't help but chuckle. However, to my right, Burr is already looking uneasy. He looks around, his eyes darting.

I gear up to defeat this man, this boy; I think of them as barriers to my freedom. Just defeat those obstacles, and the path is a little more clear.

Or maybe I just had a little too much to drink at the pub. Who knows?

Burr sees me gearing up, and he presses a firm hand to my shoulder. "Let him be…" We make eye contact. Burr is visibly nervous now. I simply shake my head. No going back, Burr.

In another lifetime I might feel sorry for poor Seabury. But in this lifetime, I must take him down.

I step up to Samuel, and a look of panic crosses his mind. I smirk. The glance simply fuels me. I turn to the crowd, fixing my face. "He'd have you all unravel at the sound of screams!" Samuel simply pauses, not bothering to counter me quite yet. "But the revolution is coming, Seabury. The have-nots are gonna win this-"

Seabury's face twists and he finally interrupts me. "Chaos and bloodshed are not a solution, sir-"

I laugh out loud, realizing that he just used this argument. "It's hard to listen to you with a straight face! Chaos and bloodshed already haunt us; look at the cost, look at what we've lost; and you only speak of Congress?"

Seabury's face twists a second time, and this time he gets enough courage to get into my face. "I pray the King shows you his mercy," he hisses, his face becoming redder than a cherry.

"My dog speaks more eloquently!" My crowd begins to laugh, making yips and the sounds of a trembling dog. John pats my back, making the loudest noises of them all. Burr continues to stand with his arms crossed over his chest, not bothering to intervene.

Perfect. Burr's stalemate simply leaves more for me.

I turn to face my audience again, and this time I land on a very unorthodox face. It's soft, circular. Their skin glows in the sun, and their gown shimmers against the simple creams and blues of the debating crowd. The eyes are a deep chocolate color; the hair is long and dark, half of it pulled back out of their face. I study their edges more. In time, I realize that I am looking at a woman. A woman among a crowd of patriots. Lovely.

Her mouth agape partnered with a sparkle in her eyes. I am taken completely aback.

Being me, I stare too long; she catches my gaze and my face feels flushed. I bow my head slightly. As I do so, I hear a faint giggle float up from the crowd of shouting men. If I knew this woman better, I would drop down on my knee this moment and ask her to marry me. Unfortunately, I have a face but no name, a gown but no other personality traits besides the fact that she enjoys watching Alexander Hamilton smash Loyalists at debates.

I raise my fist into the air, finalizing my words. "For the revolution!"

A roar erupts from the crowd, their fists raising in the air. My chest fills with pure pride; I have moved them.

Of course, she has her fist raised. She chants along with them, and my chest fills with something else. This girl looks as delicate as a flower, yet she is among a group of brash men.

She brings me to shame.

Seabury is arguing with me again, countering with the phrase, "For shame!". For shame will never match up with rebellion; self-consciousness will never compete with overthrowing our oppressors.

Burr's face makes the same sour expression that Seabury's did during the beginning of our debate. Burr steps up and takes my arm. "Alexander, please! Calm yourself, for once!"

I shake him off, unable to concentrate on multiple facets at once. "Burr, I'd rather be divisive than indecisive. Drop the niceties!"

My friend only sighs, shaking his head. He releases my arm and starts toward the next block. I can already see him pushing the issue out of his head, keeping himself as far away as possible.

Someone comes around the corner, dressed in dark clothing. They begin to shoo the crowd away. The creams and patriot blue disburse; I am left with John, Herc, and Lafayette on the sidewalk. Seabury leaves me with a heavy heart.

Herc claps my back with a large hand and John hands me his flask. I take a sip and laugh with my friends about defeating the Loyalist missionary. I hope that I'll see him again sometime soon. Maybe. Who knows? Nothing stays the same in Manhattan.

John stops laughing for a moment, taking his flask back. "That was quite the spectacle, Alexander. I ought to head back to the inn. I'll catch up with you later."

I grasp my friend's shoulder, tilting my head. "I'll catch you later, Laurens."

Herc doesn't say anything as he leaves. That's typical of him. I think I hear Lafayette mutter an "au revoir" as he ditches.

I tighten the strap on my messenger bag and go to turn down next block. Before I am able to do so, I feel a soft touch on my shoulder.

"Sir? May I have a moment?"


	3. Part 3: Eliza

_Eliza_

Ten minutes ago, he made eye contact with me; his face became flushed, and everything about him changed. His posture, his expression.

I had no idea I was able to do something like that to someone.

When he raised his fist into the air, he called out, "For the revolution!" For the first time in a long while, I felt that. I felt the urge to rebel, to throw a couple of crates of tea into the harbor myself. I had the urge to get my hands dirty, to write a letter or two.

The best part of this whole thing is when his friend took his arm and muttered. That muttering will resonate with me until the day I am buried. He muttered his name.

" _Alexander, please._ "

In the moment, I held his name close to me. As I walk up to him now, I still hold it close.

I reach for his arm, and my fingertips reach his bicep. "Sir? Could I have a moment?" The words tremble out of me, and I'm even surprised he heard me at all.

"Of course-" When he turns around, his eyes grow wide. He goes slack jawed for a moment before collecting himself. "Excuse me, miss. How can I be of assistance?"

"I wanted to thank you, sir," I say, my voice still shaky. I give a polite cough and he smiles a little. At such a young age he already has tiny crow's feet at his eyes, and his scruff can't cover up smile lines that highlight his cheeks.

He seems skeptical, and the glance he throws makes me want to embrace him, to reassure him that there is no ulterior motive. "For what exactly?"

"Well, us patriots absolutely must stick together. Especially in times like these. I think you've experienced this. If you haven't, I hope you do."

Alexander swallows hard, lickiing his lips. His eyes are calculating, searching for the right words to give me. I would accept any words from him, even if they were followed by a slap across the face.

" _Darling_!" I hear someone call from across the square. I snap my head, and I see my dear sister Peggy waving to me. Her dress swishes as she moves, still glowing in the sun. I only sigh, realizing what that means. It's time to go.

I turn back to Alexander and give a tiny curtsy, as I'm not sure if he is ranked or not. It's the easiest way to show respect anyway. "I beg your pardon, sir. I must be going. My sisters need me."

Alexander is no longer struck down, and he owns his thoughts again. He takes my hand, grasping onto it harder than Angelica had on the way here. "Am I so privileged as to receive a name?"

I look back to Peggy, then to my older sibling. Even the snail of a window shopper looks impatient and annoyed. I turn back to Alexander once more. "A thousand apologies, sir. I must be going." I am able to ease my hand out of his grasp, and he complies.

I feel the guiltiness building in my stomach. Nevertheless, when he looked at me, something happened to my heart. It was almost as if a blast had occurred; a sonic boom, if you will. I could live in that moment forever. It might even take the guilt away.

I rush over to my siblings. They take my hands, squeezing and petting me, asking me if I am okay. I only laugh, throwing my head back a bit. The relief doesn't make it to their eyes, but it satisfies me enough to head back to Albany.

As my siblings begin to walk back up the block, I stay behind for a moment. I fix myself to face the corner Alexander was standing at. He's still there, a dumbfound look upon his face. I smile at him, giving a simple wave. He smiles back and tips his head down. He fixes his collar, continuing down the opposite block.

On the carriage ride home, I worried I would never see him again. I worried that someone would catch me engaging with someone I shouldn't have been, followed by my mother reprimanding me for brash talk of revolution. " _We are seen, not heard_." Her phrase echo in my head.

As I watch Manhattan melt away, I slip into slumber. Unfortunately, I do not dream of Alexander.


End file.
